Living with Mental Health Issues, Stigma and Advocacy.

Main menu

Post navigation

So, What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

When I was little and a grown up asked me this question the answer was always “a veterinarian”. I always loved animals and so did my father. This has never changed. What did change was my ability to watch an animal suffer. If it was by a human’s hand I couldn’t trust myself to leave it to the proper authorities to handle. Seeing an animal in pain brought me immense pain. So I knew I couldn’t do it. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to handle school for that long.

I would score high on tests but physically being in school was pure agony. I would become bored easily and bring a book from home to read hoping no one would notice me or talk to me. As I got older this didn’t change much.

I have had many jobs. I can’t say I’ve really enjoyed any of them. There are parts of some that I loved. As we all know you can’t just do the parts you like.

My first job was assembling jewelry in a factory at the age of 12. I did this for a very long time over the years. Unlike my mom, I never developed a dislike for jewelry. I would see a piece and picture it a new way, a better way. Sometimes we could take home leftover pieces and I would design something of my own. I didn’t like the hours, the pay, working with all women, the fumes, not having summers, and hearing the women talk about their boss. Their boss was my mom. They would forget I was there. I kept my head down and did my work so it was easy to do. One day I had enough. I got up from my workbench, looked at each and every one of them, said “That woman is my mother, are you that stupid? Or doing it on purpose?”. I punched out and started walking home. The owner always liked me. He was an older man with strawberry blond hair, about 5’6″ and in his 50’s at the time. He had never been married. He was always kind and always called me “kiddo”. He pulled up next to me on the road and explained factory life. He also explained how tough my mom was and that’s one of the reasons she had the job she did. I miss him sometimes.

I also worked nights managing a Hallmark Store my Junior and Senior years in High School. There wasn’t much to like about it except having an excellent teacher when it came to counting down drawers, filling out bank slips, inventory, marketing, and another teacher of what not to do.

I then spent about 13 years Managing 2 Blockbusters. I loved movies. That’s it. I watched everything. I knew every foreign film, Indie film, Horror film, you name it. Now not so much. I can still tell when a film is good or just smoke and mirrors.

I then became a Hairdresser. I would’ve loved this if I had the confidence. I know the look I’m going for and how to achieve it. The problem is the client usually wants a perm at this point. I do not do perms. I can’t. My wrists tremor as soon as I start to roll the first roller. If you want a Keratin Treatment I can do 30 a day and have. If you want a dry precision hair cut like SAHAG in Manhattan I can. But a perm? Nope.

But what I’ve always wanted to do was just be a roadie or work for a band. People laugh. But even if I just did the laundry, hair, cleaned the bus, for a band I admired, I would be happy. I can’t lift heavy stuff but still. They wouldn’t even have to pay me. I really don’t want to clean toilets. Make up, hair, wardrobe, laundry, gopher, that stuff is fine. The toilets depend on what they look like.

In case you didn’t know, I might be a little manic. I’m also stalling on booking my relaxing trip because I’m afraid to leave the house. Maybe a Tour With Aerosmith, Steven Tyler, Cory Taylor, Colin Farrell, oops he doesn’t have a band but that’s ok.

I wanted to add that somehow I drank during almost the entire span of working years. It was only the years of 12 to 16 and 1/2 that I didn’t. How I managed to keep my jobs and work the hours that I did I don’t know. There were years where I never worked less than 50 hours a week. I know I could never do it now. I wouldn’t want to.